


Fairy Tale of New York

by JessieBlackwood



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Past Torchwood, Torchwood - Freeform, Torchwood Christmas, Torchwood Miracle Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieBlackwood/pseuds/JessieBlackwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly AU, but not much, this is Jack and Angelo's Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And the Bells Were Ringing Out...

**Author's Note:**

> "And the boys of the NYPD Choir were singing Galway Bay, and the bells were ringing out at Christmas time"
> 
> Fairytale of New York - Shane MacGowan and Kirsty McColl

The room was cold. Jack woke in the dusky pre-dawn light and shivered, wondering at the drop in temperature. He padded on bare feet to the window and looked out. Frost patterned the panes with a delicate tracery of crystals and his breath plumed in the air. He forced the window down a little and gasped as the freezing wind slipped in, raising goosebumps on his flesh. He ignored them, though, mesmerized by the vision that met his eyes. Snow was falling, delicate clumps of snowflakes lazily drifting to earth. He smiled, captivated. He had been on Earth now for nearly six decades and still he found the novelty of snow in winter hadn't worn off. Boeshane had never had snow. Every winter since he had arrived, he watched kids of all ages throw balls of the stuff at each other, watched it pile into drifts and coat every structure for miles with a blanket of white. Every year he never failed to watch the sun set in fiery glory over it, turning it glorious shades of pink and gold.

"Hey," said a sleepy voice from the depths of the bed. "Merda. Shut the damn window, Jack. It's freezing in here. Why don't you get your ass back in here and warm me up, huh?"

"Sorry," Jack replied, complying with the request. "It's Christmas Eve and it's snowing."

"Snowing?" The softly-accented voice sounded suddenly eager as a child's. There was a rustling noise and then Angelo was standing next to him, skin still warm from the bed, his scent in Jack's nostrils warm and musky and comforting all in one. He peered out the window, scrubbing at the frost to make a hole large enough to see through. His eyes grew wide and his smile gleeful. Jack couldn't resist moving up close behind him, placing his hands on those slim hips.

"I love snow," Angelo admitted, his eyes alight with wonder. "It reminds me of home."

"It's Christmas Eve. We should go shopping for presents. There's Signora Brunetti. We really should thank her for taking us both in."

"Hmm, and old Mr Rubenstein, the tailor."

"Jerry at the news stand."

"Signora Rocca?"

"Billy and Gabriel." They smiled. So many people they had made friends with since arriving in New York.

"Come on then, what are we waiting for?"

"Angelo, it's not 0500 yet. Nothing will be open for a few hours at least."

"Okay then, come back to bed." Angelo dragged Jack behind him with the determination of youth. "I know a great way we can warm up."

***8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8***

Sunlight filtering in through the curtain he had left open roused Jack a couple of hours later. He rose and dressed quickly, leaving Angelo as long as he could. He splashed his face in the cold water from the wash stand jug and scratched his chin. The mirror on the wall with its small crack gave him a crooked appearance and he smiled, self-deprecating.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Angelo was yawning and struggling to sit, fighting the bedsheets which were wrapped around his feet. "I thought we were going Christmas shopping?"

"We are, we will, but you seemed to be exhausted last night so I figured I'd leave you to rest."

"I wonder why that might be?" Angelo demanded, grinning. Then he swung his feet out of bed and hunted for clothes. The two men presented themselves in Signora Brunetti's dining room at precisely 8.30am.

"Buongiorno," she said. "Come stai?"

"Molto bene, grazie," Jack replied, as Angelo had taught him. Angelo smiled proudly and sat down. They proceeded to wolf down eggs, bacon, beans, toast and coffee with alacrity.

"You boys heading somewhere in a hurry?" she asked them, watching them clear their plates at speed. "On a day like this?" 

"Yes, ma'am. We're going shopping!" Angelo replied and almost dashed out after Jack.

The sidewalks were choked with snow and everything on the roads had slowed to a crawl. The snow had stopped but lay thickly in deep drifts in places where the prevailing wind had pushed it. People were out clearing steps and pavement, trying to free their front doors in places.

"Where are we going?" Angelo asked, hurrying to keep up with Jack's longer stride.

"Down town," Jack replied. "I thought Macy's or Bloomingdales."

"Are you kidding me? They would take one look and throw us out on the street!" Angelo laughed. Yet Jack's sly glance had him both worried and wondering. Jack didn't seem to feel the cold as they struggled through the snow. Although Angelo liked it, after more than an hour of it he had to admit he was tiring and he was feeling the cold rather more severely. His feet were going numb and his fingers ached.

"Jack..." he panted, beginning to worry. "Jack!" he declared more forcefully as the man kept walking.

"What?" Jack stopped and turned, then his face changed as he registered Angelo's distress. "You okay?"

"I'm cold and tired and I can't feel my feet!"

"Here, sit down..." Jack almost dragged Angelo to a park bench, swept the snow off and sat him down, lifting his feet off the floor. He unlaced one boot ignoring Angelo's protest that someone would see them and took it off. "Your feet are wet. Why didn't you tell me your boots leaked?" he turned the offending footwear over and saw the worn sole. "You need new boots, or at the very least you need these repairing."

"Can't afford it. I have no money, in case you didn't notice. I am a kept man, Jack. You pay the rent, I haven't found a job yet."

"I know that. Money's no problem for me. You should have told me."

"Dio mio! I have some pride left. How do you think I feel relying on your generosity all the time? It's not right..."

"Angelo..."

"No, Jack, I want to pay my way, as well you know!"

"I do know. And I understand. It's just... it's not your fault you can't find work. Nobody is hiring. When you do get something, you can pay me back. Okay? Right now, you need new boots, new clothes and a good coat, you're freezing," Jack paused. "Look, let me make this my Christmas present to you, how would that be?" He rummaged in his pocket and removed a wad of money. He peeled several notes off and handed them over. "Here," he offered. "You can pay me back when you get a job." Reluctantly, Angelo took the money and stuffed it into his pocket. "Now stay here, there's something I want to buy..." Angelo tucked his feet up away from the snow and watched Jack cross the road. 

**8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8**

"You look amazing." Jack complemented, admiring the cut of the suit Angelo now wore. "It looks good on you, we'll take it."

"Jack, it's too good. If I wear this nobody will hire me, they will think I don't need a job."

"Never mind, we'll get you something more...suitable, later. For now, you deserve this."

"I can never pay you back for this, it's too much!"

"You don't need to." Jack's smile was warm and affectionate. "You look good, Angelo. Please, let me do this one thing for you?" Angelo sighed. The clothes were fine and they did fit him very well. He looked, if not a million dollars, close to a thousand maybe.

"Alright," he heard himself say. "Thank you, Jack."

They ate in a posh restaurant overlooking the park. The atmosphere was festive and decorations hung in the windows, illuminated by strings of small lights.

"Will you look at those?" Angelo was transfixed with wonder. "I have never seen the like..."

"They're electric."

"They're amazing."

"Hey, we could go see a show."

"A show? What kind of show?"

"You know, theatre, a review, anything. Must be something on somewhere." Jack was eager to pay the bill quickly and then he pushed Angelo hastily through the door, shoving an arm through his as he marched him across the street.

The theatre was open, people drifting in for the matinee performance. It was a review, and Jack paid for two tickets and ushered Angelo ahead of him. When the lights went down, Angelo was excited as a child, clapping with enthusiasm as a comedian came on to tell jokes and was practically boo-ed off stage. There followed a man who recited a couple of monologues, followed by a juggling act called the Hooplah Girls (four Canadian sisters) and a balancing act (five Russian brothers) called the Russ Troup.

"Very original," Jack muttered but Angelo was hooked. A singer dressed as an angel followed, with a line up of dancing girls with feather fans and skimpy costumes. They were all dressed as devils in bright red complete with horns. Sequins were in abundance although the Angel's glittery halo was slightly askew and her wings were not level. She sang with gusto though.

"You looked at me, my heart began to pound.

You weren't the sort of guy I thought would stick around..."

Angelo glanced at Jack and grinned. Jack smiled back, listening as the appropriate lyrics unfolded.

"My bad, bad angel, you put the devil in me..." Jack found himself humming the lyrics long after the show was over. It would be many years before he would hear them again, but a long time before he could rid himself of the references.

"So, is Christmas turning out how you hoped?" Jack glanced at Angelo as he said the words, captivated by the young man's awe and wonder at the marvels on show before him. The snow started falling as darkness fell, and jack suggested turning for home. Angelo had new boots and a heavy coat now; he huddled into it as they walked. They bought chestnuts from a street vendor and ate them while listening to a choir of people singing carols. They stopped more than once to stare in the windows of one of the big department stores. The richness of the goods on display made Angelo's mouth water. He promised himself there and then on that cold winter night, one day he would have plenty. He would have money; money of his own to pay Jack back for his kindness, his care, and above all, his love.

"Would you..." he hesitated. He knew how Jack felt about his religion. He confessed every Sunday, much to Jack's annoyance. The man could not see why Angelo still followed a religion that rejected him. "People reject people, Jack. Not God. What we do is wrong in his eyes but on the final day, when I meet him, face to face, he will not turn away. As long as I repent of my sins and mean it, which I do. My body is weak, not my soul." Jack still failed to understand though.

"Would I what?"

"Could we... would you let me...attend Midnight Mass?" Angelo sighed, almost defeated before he had begun. He anticipated a fight to get Jack to come with him but Midnight Mass at Christmas was always magical to him.

"Angelo, I am not about to stop you. What you want to do is your business. Whether I agree with it or not is not the point. You're free to live as you choose."

"I wish that were true."

"So do I, but you know what I mean."

"I do. I want you to come with me. Please, Jack, just see it? Experience it? With me, together?" Angelo's eyes held that pleading look and Jack capitulated this one time, this one night, because after all it was Christmas.

"Okay," he said and Angelo beamed, his face lit up, joy making his green eyes come alive.

They still had a long way to go. All their presents made for a bulky load and Jack decided to splash out on a cab. It kept them safe and they rode home in style. The cab driver was talkative and Jack tipped him heavily and wished him a merry Christmas. He went off whistling.

Their room had never looked so warm and welcoming. Angelo lit the small fire in the grate and they pulled chairs up to the hearth. Jack disappeared to beg a jug of hot water from the kitchen so they could wash in comfort. He made coffee while he was there and appeared with a tray bearing the cups, jug and some cakes that Signora Benedetti had sent "her boys" with her good wishes. She had blushed like a girl when Jack kissed her.

Later, lying in the big soft bed, warm and comfortable, arms entwined around each other, Jack and Angelo both heard the clock strike the hour. Eleven.

"If you want to go to mass, we better get up," Jack said gently, dropping a kiss on Angelo's cheek.

"We could stay here."

"Second thoughts?" Angelo sighed. "What's wrong?" Jack asked him.

"I was thinking about what you said, about what we do and how I always confess my sins..."

"And?"

"It makes me feel better."

"So that means it isn't a bad thing."

"But you don't understand why I would need to."

"No, I don't agree that you have to, I do understand why you need to. This time, it won't always be this way, Angelo. One day, it will be legal for two people of the same sex to love each other, it will even be legal to marry, and one day, one day far into the future, nobody will even think it strange. But that is far away yet."

"You say the oddest things with conviction, Jack, as if you know. I hope you are proved right." Jack smiled and threw back the covers.

"Come on, if we're to make it in time. I can hear Signora Benedetti downstairs. Others will be going to this, we can catch them up and go together."

Jack had to admit there was something magical in the smell of incense and the candle light glinting of the gold chalice and candlesticks. The Latin service largely passed over his head but the essence of the thing conveyed itself. Jack had no use for religion and avoided it if he could but he had to admit to himself that sometimes, it was necessary to others, maybe. Angelo's face was lit by a rapt expression that Jack had never seen before. He glanced over and the green eyes met his. Something in them... a depth of feeling Jack saw so rarely in anyone. Angelo smiled, and Jack realized the man was totally at peace, with himself and with his fellows. Jack shook his head and Angelo gave him a teasing, exasperated smile. Goodwill toward all men, Jack thought.

They emerged into a cold Christmas morning, ploughing back through the snow in a group. At least eight of them had come from the rooming house the Benedetti's kept. They stumbled and scrambled through the drifts, laughing and helping each other. The sky above them was crystal clear, pinprick stars pricked into the velvet black vault above. Jack turned his head up to look at them, wondering where the doctor was in all that vastness. He hoped he was okay, wherever he was. He hoped he had Rose with him. He hoped she made it home. A hopeless longing filled him then, he still had more than three quarters of a century to wait. And he knew then he could not wait with Angelo. Angelo had his own life to lead and sometime soon Jack would have to return to Torchwood and everything would go tits up again. Why for once could he not simply enjoy his life? Why must he always end up alone...?

"Jack? You okay? Hey?" Angelo was shaking him. "What's wrong?" Jack dashed the tears away and tried to smile.

"Its okay, nothing. I'm okay," he lied. Angelo shot him a disbelieving look and let it lie. He very daringly took Jack's hand-they were at the rear of the group and nobody was looking in the dark-and they walked through the darkness back home. Once inside, they went up to their room and shed their clothes, sliding into bed in the dark, seeking skin to skin contact, affirmation that they were here and now; affirmation that the future did not matter right now. This was the important thing; the two of them, together, close and warm and satisfied in this moment, this perfect, flawless thread in the tapestry of time and space. It was all the Christmas present Jack desired.


	2. Chapter 2

Angelo awoke alone. The fire was cold in the small hearth and the bed even colder beside him. There was no sign of Jack. He lay quietly, wondering where Jack had disappeared to. Angelo could hear bells, he realized. It seemed like all the bells in New York were ringing, peeling in Christmas Day. He lay there listening for a while, worry gnawing at him, wondering exactly what hare-brained scheme had dragged his lover off this time when he heard a commotion on the stairs and Jack’s voice calling Merry Christmas. A door slammed, someone called back, there was a snatch of laughter, a dog barking, then silence. The door opened abruptly as Jack shouldered it aside, bearing a large tray loaded with things that steamed gently in the cold air. He placed his burden on the table, humming “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” to himself the while. Then he busied himself sorting things out; pulling the drapes open, coaxing the fire back to life.

“Jack? I was worried...” Jack turned and rolled his eyes at that, grinning.

“You sound like Gerald,” he said. “You sure you don’t have Welsh ancestry?”

“I don’t even know where... what did you call it?”

“Welsh,” he said. “Wales. I think you call it Galles?”

“Galles,” Angelo nodded. “I know what you mean but not where it is exactly. It is near Inghilterra, no?”

“I guess you could say so, although some people—particularly the Welsh—would say it was too close.” Angelo laughed with him.

“They sound like the French, these Welsh folk. Nationalistic, proud and maybe a pain the ass.”

“Oh, they can be more than that,” Jack admitted, his grin undiminished. “Worriers, every man Jack of ′em.” Angelo smiled at the epithet and shook his head in exasperation. “Although, Gerald isn’t actually Welsh,” Jack mused. “Might as well be though. Maybe he’s just lived there too long.”

Angelo wasn’t allowed to get up. Jack served him breakfast in bed; toast, beans, bacon and coffee. This morning the tray bore extra toast and some home-made marmalade.  Angelo sat up and tucked in happily, watching Jack sit down to eat his at the table. Snow was falling again by the time they had finished.

 

“What shall we do today?” Angelo asked. All he really wanted was to stay warm and cosy in bed with Jack. It was a bright day, despite the snow clouds, the air both crisp and clean. It would be a perfect day for a walk.

“I want to stay here with you,” Jack said quietly, neatly echoing Angelo’s thoughts. “Just one day, with you, when we don’t do anything else. Nothing to interrupt us, nothing to cause trouble. Just...us. Here. Now. Could we?” Jack’s eyes were appealing, needy.

Angelo grinned. “Of course we could. I would like that more than anything.”

“Presents first?”

“Alright, presents first, Jack.” Angelo chuckled. Jack was so childlike sometimes, full of wonder and awe and excitement. “Although I am getting up now, I’m not ill. Only ill people stay in bed all day...”

“Or people in love...” Jack grinned and it was Angelo’s turn to roll his eyes.

 

Sitting on the mat in front of the fire, they exchanged gifts. Angelo held out a package, and Jack, smiling, handed him a rather larger bag with a number of different packages inside. One held a pair of gloves, rather fine black leather. “Oh, Jack,” Angelo said. “They’re beautiful.” They were lined with soft fur. “I didn’t get you much...”

“Will you stop worrying. I don’t buy things because I expect things in return, I buy them because I want to spoil you.” At Angelo’s urging, he opened the box he had been given to find a carved wooden figurine; a pair of figures, barely four inches high, brightly painted, leaned together with an arm round each other’s shoulders. They had golden halos, and were dressed in what looked like robes, one in red, the other in blue, both holding swords. Jack frowned. This was religious iconography, an odd thing for Angelo to give him.

“They are saints,” he said by way of explanation. “I know you are not a religious man, Jack, but these are special saints. Bacchus and Sergius were generals in the Roman army. They were martyrs for their faith, but some say they were also lovers...” Angelo’s green gaze met Jack’s. “They are... the closest thing people like you and me have to a patron saint, Jack. I wanted to give you something to watch over you...” Jack traced a finger over the little figures. “I made them myself, a long time ago, or so it feels anyway...”

“Angelo, that’s....” he was lost for words. He knew how precious the object must be to Angelo. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and slid a hand around the back of Angelo’s neck, kissing him hard. They rested their foreheads together for a moment, in perfect accord, and then Jack pulled away, lips pulled into a crooked smile. “Go on, open another one,” he urged.

Angelo ripped the paper from around the second parcel to reveal a small box, beautifully grained and polished, a carved cross on the top. Inside, nestled on a red cushion sat a string of beads. He lifted it out, looking from Jack to the beads in his hand and back again. “Jack,” he managed to choke out. “I haven’t the words...” A crucifix dangled from the rosary, its warm golden olive wood beads smooth as velvet in his fingers. The Mother of Pearl backing of the crucifix shone in the light from the fire.

“They’re olive wood. The man assured me they were Italian, possibly quite old.”

Gathering them into his fist, Angelo’s lips muttered a blessing over the beads, a Hail Mary if Jack’s ears were not playing tricks. Reverently, he placed them back into the box and smiled. “They are... such a thoughtful gift, mi amato.”

“There’s one more,” Jack said and watched as Angelo tore the paper away from his third gift. He grinned.

“You got me chocolates?”

“Of course. I wanted to find something romantic and frivolous,” Jack laughed.

“Mi piace il cioccolato,” Angelo chuckled, picking a succulent-looking cherry liqueur and biting into it appreciatively. “Especially kirsch,” he smiled, and leaned in to kiss Jack, giving him a taste of the sweet on his tongue. Jack deepened the kiss and slid a hand up Angelo’s ribs. Warm hands tugged Jack’s shirt loose and slid up his back. Both men moaned softly into the kiss, breath coming faster as they sought skin to skin contact. Jack pushed Angelo’s shirt off his shoulders, fastened his teeth to the soft point where neck and shoulder met and sucked. Angelo gasped and bucked his hips, thrusting closer to Jack’s body as felt Jack’s arms bearing him to the rug in front of the fire. Firelight played across his dusky skin, casting shadows across the plane of Angelo’s stomach and the ridges of bone and muscle beneath Jack’s fingertips. Angelo groaned as the weight of Jack’s body held him down and something hard pressed into his groin, mirroring his own erection.

“Should we take this to bed?” Jack growled, grabbing his wrists and forcing them above his head. It put Angelo in mind of the first time they met, Jack on top of him, holding him down to the dusty floor of the Federal Immigration Station on Ellis Island. Angelo shook his head.

“I thought we were doing fine right here.” For answer, Jack dipped and fastened his mouth over the hard button of a nipple and suckled. Angelo hissed and arched into the touch, his body tingling with sensation. He grabbed Jack’s head in his hands, framing his face, drawing him up for another passionate kiss, their tongues duelling for control. Jack pulled away and shed the remainder of his clothes almost desperately. He kicked his trousers away and knelt, fumbling with the waistband of Angelo’s trousers with barely contained impatience. He fought the button fly and won, dragging the offending garment off and covering Angelo’s body with his own again. Heat flowed across him; heat from the fire, from Angelo’s skin, from his own desire. He pressed himself closer, feeling Angelo’s teeth on his shoulder, sucking and nibbling on the soft flesh in return, marking him, claiming him. He rolled to lie on his back, silently inviting Angelo to claim him completely, hooking his ankles around Angelo’s narrow hips and drawing him closer. Ever since he had first laid eyes on him, there was something, some connection that bound them together, more than bodily delights and emotional highs, there was something that had to happen between them. What it was and for what reason Jack had no clue, and yet... Above him, Angelo’s intense green eyes burned with passion. Firelight played on Jack’s skin, gilding him with flickering gold. Angelo thrust into him, almost violent in his desire, a ragged rhythm that brought them both to completion far too soon for Jack’s liking but he ran with it as the sensations washed over him and through him, he caught Angelo’s suddenly limp body in his arms and stroked his back as the man came down from the intense high. He rolled the man’s boneless form over and got up, soaking a cloth from the wash stand and cleaning himself off. He knelt and washed his lover tenderly, drying him off before lifting him in his arms and depositing him in the bed. Jack got in beside him and cuddled close, Angelo’s eyes closing even as he turned into the embrace and breathed a sigh of utter contentment.

 

His stomach growling hungrily woke Angelo up and he stirred to find Jack watching him, as he always seemed to do, if he was still there. Jack never slept much. He was always the first awake, the first to rise, the last to go to bed.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Thought you were going to sleep the night away. Shall we go down to dinner? I heard the bell a few minutes ago.”

“Sure.” Angelo swung his legs out of bed and went to sluice his face in the water. “That was good,” he said with a smile. “How about we go for walk after? In the snow?”

“Sounds good to me.” Jack pulled on his trousers and found a clean shirt. “We could visit the park.”

 

“Hey, you can’t go out without these,” Jack protested as they got ready to go out. They were both full of Signora Benedetti’s good food; the Christmas dinner had been fine, with a turkey, a goose and a duck, potatoes, stuffing and plenty of steamed vegetables. An enormous steamed pudding had followed, stuck full with silver sixpences, courtesy of Jack. Angelo had found one, and it now resided in his waistcoat pocket, a lucky charm against future poverty. Now Jack took hold of one of Angelo’s hands and proceeded to pull the fur-lined leather glove over his fingers, the soft lining warm and snug. Jack pulled the other one onto his other hand and smiled. “You need to stay warm.”

“You mother me, Jack.” Angelo was exasperated with him. “I’m a big boy now.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Jack grinned, lasciviously, and Angelo threw his hat at him with a chuckle.

 

“This is beautiful,” Angelo stopped by the park gates to admire the deep drifts and the tree boughs burdened with white. Everything was quiet. Hardly anyone was about. They walked into the park and along the path, following the familiar routes even though the path couldn’t be seen properly. A snowman, with coal for eyes and a carrot for a nose, sat beneath a tree, twig arms spread in greeting. He wore a ragged red scarf which had seen better days and a battered bowler hat. The sigh made them both smile. Suddenly a cold ball of snow struck Angelo between his shoulder blades. He yelped and jumped and glowered at Jack who had a distinctly wicked grin in place. Angelo retaliated with a snowball of his own which flew wild.

“Missed!” Jack yelled, gleefully, only to be stopped dead as one hit him in the chest. He looked down, glowering.

“I did not!” Angelo gestured triumphantly. “I hit you! Fair and square!” It was his turn to duck as Jack got his own back. They carried on until they were both covered in snow and Angelo was beginning to shiver. Jack hauled him out of the park and off home.

 

Stripped of their damp clothes and tucked into bed, the two men dozed in the warmth from the fire and the flickering light from the oil lamp by the bed. “Happy Christmas Angelo,” Jack murmured. Angelo smiled, head on Jack’s chest.

“Buon Natale, Jack. This has been the best one of my life, you know that?”

“Surely not...”

“Oh yes. It has. You’ve made it so. This is the one Christmas when I am truly myself, and not hiding what I am,” he admitted. “Well, not from myself anyway. Thank you, Jack, you have done that for me.” Jack smiled and sighed.

“Thank you, too. It would have been a bleak mid-winter without you.”

“I want you to know...” Jack’s fingers on his lips silenced him.

“Don’t say it, please,” Jack pleaded gently. “Let’s just... let’s keep it simple.”

“I just want you to know, that’s all,” Angelo repeated. “I want you to know you’re not alone...”

Jack smiled. “I think I know that,” he joked, but he sobered almost at once, recognising the meaning behind Angelo’s words. “Thank you, Angelo, but I... no, that’s for another day. Right here, right now is all that matters. You and me, together, here and now. I don’t want to think ahead or behind or anything else right now. Please?”

“Okay, Jack. Okay. But one day, you’ll understand. When that time comes, don’t push him away, Jack. Whoever he is, don’t push him away.”

“What makes you think it won’t be you?”

“Jack... I don’t. It might be me. But whoever it is, be kind to yourself. I know you’ve seen things and been places other people, including me, only dream about. You’ve seen things I can be thankful that I haven’t seen. I know you cry out in your sleep, when you sleep, and I cannot but wonder why, what gave you those night terrors? No matter, you do things to save people, Jack, and I want you to know, I am one of those people. You’ve saved me. You have given me the chance to be me, to find out what it’s like to be free, at least a little. One day, Jack, I’ll make my way in this world and do great things. I’ll make you proud of me. Until then, all I can say is thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you, for the greatest gift anyone could give a man. You’ve allowed me my freedom, freedom to think, to choose, to live... and love, no matter that you don’t want to hear it.” Jack lay there, speechless. He didn’t know what to say. He just lay there, holding tight to the beautiful man in his arms. No words came to mind, so he kissed him, deeply and tenderly, trying to make his actions speak louder than words.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

“What’s this, Jack?” Ianto held up a small object, colours faded and paint a little chipped. Jack frowned and peered at the small thing, two little figures with their arms around each other. “I wasn’t aware you were into religious iconography.”

Jack smiled. “I’m not. They were given to me a long time ago.” He smiled at the memory. Angelo would be dead by now, most likely. He felt a little saddened by that thought and took the little figures from Ianto’s hand. “Where did you find them?”

“In a case downstairs, some of your stuff I think. There were a few photos too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you and a young man, dark haired... wearing clothes from the 1920s I would have said.” Ianto was affecting a disinterested air which did nothing to fool Jack. He was burning to find out who the young man was.

“His name was Angelo, Angelo Colasanto.”

“Were you two... you know, like you and me?”

Jack allowed his smile to broaden into a grin. “If you mean, were we lovers, then yes, we were.” Jack’s smile faded and he sighed, fingers stroking the figurine. “These guys are Baccus and Sergius, they were generals in the Roman army. They were martyred for their Christian faith and a few people think they were also lovers so they were adopted as the patron saints of homosexuals.”

“Gay saints? I didn’t think there were any. Besides, isn’t than an oxymoron?”

“Quite possibly. Come on,” Jack pocketed the little figures. “Grab your coat, let’s go get a coffee from that new place on the Plas and I’ll tell you all about Angelo.” They took the invisible lift up to the fountain and into the early dark of the December evening. A chill wind was blowing and flakes of snow were trying to fall. Ianto tugged his collar up and huddled deeper into his overcoat. Jack smiled and threw an easy arm around his lover’s shoulders. Ianto settled into the embrace, unusually for him. Maybe due to their recent near miss with the Darleks, Jack thought. It was good to be close to someone at this time of year. Gwen would be home with Rhys, looking forward to Christmas. The Doctor.... who knew after last time. Jack hoped he was at least not alone. They pushed through the door to the coffee shop, finding it warm and welcoming, the low murmur of patrons inside it a surprise. Jack had expected screaming kids and irate parents.

They were guided to a booth with nothing but a flickering candle lamp to light it and a muted uplight on the wall above them.

“This is nice,” Ianto observed, appreciatively. “Intimate.”

“Buonasera, Gentlemen, what can I get you?”

“Well, hello,” Jack grinned at the young man in the barista apron and flashed a smile. “Captain Jack Harkness, and who might you be?”

“My name is Niccolo, signor, I will be your waiter tonight.” He handed them menus and asked if he could get them any drinks.

“Coffee, for two... thank you.” Ianto elbowed Jack as the man opened his mouth to speak again. “Jack, do not flirt with the staff, I’m sure it will be frowned on by the management. You wouldn’t want Niccolo to lose his job, would you?”

“No, of course not. I’m just being friendly.”

“You were flirting, like you always do.” Jack grinned and muttered something. “What?”

“I said, so sue me. I like flirting. Are you jealous? You are, you’re jealous!” Ianto rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation.

“Come on then,” he said, in order to deflect the current line of conversation. “Tell me all about Angelo....”

 

Outside, across the plas, a lone figure tugged his hood up and huddled into the padded coat he wore, then trained a camera with an impossibly long lens on the bright window of the new coffee shop and restaurant. He zoomed in on the two men inside, just visible over the top of their booth. He had managed to take one of two good clear shots of them crossing the Plas on their way and knew his employer would be pleased with tonight’s work. By tomorrow, he would be winging his way back to the mansion in Nevada, back to warmer climes. He had to admit that Cardiff was not the place to be at this time of year. He did not envy the two men their home city at that moment.

 

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

 

“You did well, Tino,” the old man praised, lifting the framed photo in hands lined and gnarled with age. It was a nice one of Jack, with his arm around a younger man, Christmas decorations in the windows behind them. “Do you know who this one is?” He tapped the glass. Tino nodded, smiling.

“His lover, _Bisnonno,_ ” the young man replied. “I found out that his name is Ianto, Ianto Jones. Lui e Gallese.”

Angelo Colasanto smiled as he placed the latest photo on his mantelpiece. So Jack had found himself a young Welshman, had he? He could but hope that this time, Jack would be happy, at least for a while.  He went back to his bed and lay down, glad to be horizontal again. He was getting weaker, he knew. _How long will I be able to carry on,_ he wondered? Jack, well, Jack looked as young as he had when Angelo had first laid eyes on him. What it was like to be immortal, he could not comprehend. In a way, he was glad he wasn’t. He was tired, not simply tired in body but tired in mind too. God knew what that did to an immortal mind. He tried not to remember how he had found out about Jack and what he had done to the man. He was still ashamed of that.

“Bisnonno, would you like me to bring you anything?”

“No, no, Tino. I don’t need anything,” he reassured. “You can put the radio on as you leave, and you tell your mama to come see me soon, okay?”

“Okay, Bisnonno.” The lad turned on the radio and then went to the door. “Ciao, nonno.”

“Ciao, Tino. Grazie mille.” Tino flashed him a smile and headed out the door.

Lying there, listening the the BBC world service, Angelo wondered if he would ever see Jack Harkness again. Would it matter? With Jack’s knowledge, Angelo had avoided the worst of the depression and made his money, enough to invest and come out a rich man. That was why he could afford to send people like his great-grandson across to Wales to photograph the man he loved, to track his ex-lover’s history through the decades. That way, he felt closer to the only man who had ever meant anything to him. The radio started playing Christmas songs and one stirred his memory.

“And the boys from the NYPD choir still singing Galway Bay, and the bells were ringing out for Christmas time...” _Fairytale of New York,_ his memory supplied. Angelo smiled and closed his eyes, willing his memory back to that Christmas night so long ago, to his own fairytale of New York.

 

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

****

“Angelo?”

“Yes, Jack...”

“I just wish...I wish this moment could last forever.”

“Forever is a long time, Jack.”

“I know... believe me, I know.”

“As long as you remember me. I, for one, will never forget you, no matter how long I live.”

“I promise, I’ll not forget you, Angelo.”

“Good, because I won’t settle for being a blink of an eye for you, you know?”

Jack smiled. “You will never just be the blink of an eye for me, Angelo Colasanto, not for me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimers: Characters owned by RTD and the BBC. I don't own any of it, except maybe the idea for the story, etc. etc. etc., no infringement of copyright intended, no money being made, etc, etc. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.


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